Re: Marvel hospital: Gwen & Peter
Gwen assumed that Peter's yes in response to her not-asked question encompassed absolutely every bad thing she could imagine. Sex, being together, etc., she'd run through all possible scenarios in her mind and deemed them all likely. Maybe, after how things had gone with Jason, that was just easier. Accepting that the inevitable finally happened was easier than trying to parse through the details. And, really, it was all the same in the end.
She nearly laughed when he shrugged that lame shrug; she wanted to, but she didn't manage much more than a knowing smile. "Aunt May is a feeder. When bad things happen, she totally starts making casseroles."
She didn't know he was running through all the possible alternative scenarios regarding Flash, but it wouldn't have surprised her to learn he was doing just that. She'd been doing it since the hallway. If she hadn't administered the anti-hallucinogenic, and if she hadn't gone in and distracted him, and it was easy to shoulder blame. She knew Peter was especially good at holding himself responsible for absolutely everything, ever since his uncle died, and then her dad, and she suspected he'd done the same thing when she died. She knew that, and so she looked at him curiously, as if she could figure out what was going on in his mind if she looked hard enough. There wasn't any scientific reasoning in that, but she'd known him pretty well before the procession of Peters in the years since, and remembering was too easy. "It's not your fault."
His sheepishness managed to warm some of the ice she was holding close to herself, and she sighed and patted the empty space on the couch. "I'm not angry, Peter. I'm not. You can't help things you feel," she said, and maybe she'd been angry when she'd found out that something happened with him and Mary Jane, because he'd promised, but she didn't want to hold onto that, not now when Flash was nearly dead, and when everything seemed inevitable again. "When Flash and I talked last week, he told me I was stupid for thinking you and Mary Jane weren't going to end up together. This was before-" She waved her hand awkwardly, and she scuffed the toe of her shoe against the tile floor and watched the movement, rather than looking up as she spoke. "He said some things were inevitable, fate, and that they couldn't be avoided. And he was right." She motioned to the hospital corridor that led to the OR, where the boy in question was lying, broken.